Point of No Return
by Dragon's Daughter 1980
Summary: Every moment in this life is a point of no return. You can't look back to what was, only forward to what is and what will be. Spoilers for 4x06
1. Chapter 1

**Point of No Return**

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

Disclaimer: Other than being a weekly viewer, I have nothing to do with Ghost Whisperer.

Author's Notes: Well… last Friday's episode was certainly interesting…

* * *

"Absolutely not," he muttered as he paced back and forth. Little eddies of fog were whipped into an agitated froth by his restless movements. He shook his head firmly as he carried on the conversation, "I am absolutely not going to go. I don't—No, I don't care what You say, I'm not going to go! Yes, I know! But what about his wife?" he demanded angrily, looking up at the pale golden sky above him. "It's not fair for either of them!"

"Whoever said that Life was fair?" asked a woman's voice. He whirled around to see an elderly woman standing behind him, dressed in a turquoise pinafore with a peach-colored blouse underneath. Her wise brown eyes calmly regarded him.

"Hasn't she gone through _enough_?" he responded sharply, unsuccessfully reining in his agitation. It was clear from her bearing that the woman was an emissary from Elsewhere, a messenger who commanded proper respect from him. The woman folded her hands, serene in the face of his fury.

"What is Life but trials and tribulations that test the spirit?" she said quietly. "She is strong, and this will make her stronger."

"How?" he asked. "How will making her a widow make her stronger? He's her _life_. She turned back from the Light because of him, and—they need each other. If he dies, she'll be a shell of herself."

"No," the woman shook her head, the soft sunlight reflecting off of her silvery hair. "She will have others to live for."

"He's her rock," he pointed out. "Who is she supposed to turn to?"

"There will be many there to support her."

"Like who?" he asked in exasperation. "Her business partner and friend who doesn't willingly believe in ghosts? Her academic protégé who has the worst bedside manner that I've ever seen? Her occult researcher who's currently off in the Himalayans and stuck in the middle of a snowstorm?"

A faint hint of amusement crossed the woman's lips before she pointed out, "You haven't seen many people's bedside manners."

"My brother—"

"Your brother has a wonderful bedside manner, that is true," she finished thoughtfully, "and he would make a wonderful father."

"But he's not a father, and he's not going to _be_ a father if he's dead." He winced at the slightly hysterical edge in his tone. He sternly told himself to get a hold of his emotions before he lost the argument. Time was running short. He had to convince her to appeal to her superior on his brother's behalf.

"He can," responded the elderly woman. "I imagine that she will have her hands full with the three of them."

"_Triplets_?" he croaked with shock before indignation took control. "You're making her a widow and leaving her to raise triplets _alone_?"

The woman arched an eyebrow and responded calmly, "She is a strong woman and she will not be alone. After all, Dalia will be there to support her, along with Ned and Eli. That does not even speak of your brother's colleagues and friends who will look after her and the children."

"But that's…" he spluttered.

"Melinda will live a happy life," the woman soothed, "that much I can assure you of. It will not be without its hardships and its tears, but it will be a good life."

There was a firm finality in her words that told him it was useless to try to argue anymore. There was only so much leeway, and he sensed that it had been already pressed to the limits.

He closed his eyes with a resigned sigh, "So what will be, will be?"

She nodded, "Yes."

The woman reached out into the light mist that had descended around them and plucked a silvery mantle out of thin air. With an experienced flick of her wrist, she settled the thin cloak around her shoulders.

"You should go see her," she said quietly, "and your brother."

"Will he cross?"

"He will need someone there to greet him," she said, an indirect answer to his question, "and who better than his own brother? He was with you in your last moments; you will be with him in his."

He swallowed hard and nodded reluctantly in acknowledgement of the implicit order. With a gracious smile, she raised the hood of the mantle. Leaving him standing there, she turned to go and then paused.

"Oh, and whoever said that she's having triplets?" she tossed over her shoulder with a satisfied smile before she walked into the mist.

"Wait, _what_?" he lunged forward, intending to catch her shoulder and ask for more answers than questions, but she had disappeared into the mist. "What do you mean? She's not having triplets?"

When he tried to follow her fading footsteps, the light mist thickened and darkened into a solidly gray fog, effectively concealing her from sight. He stepped blindly forward, his hand outstretched to catch her shoulder. The sound of her footfalls eventually vanished and he wandered forward in silence, hoping that he would, by mere chance, be able to catch her.

His hand collided with warm, solid, and _living_ flesh before he was blinded by the sudden brightness of a well-lit corridor. A woman gasped quietly from somewhere in front of him. He squinted enough to see a young woman whirling around to face him, her brown curls tumbling around her pale, tearstained face. Her eyes widened in recognition and she whispered his name through trembling lips. She swallowed convulsively before she asked in a shaking voice, "What are you doing here?"

Standing in a quiet corner of the hospital complex, he stared back at his sister-in-law in surprise before he confessed, "I…I don't know. I…" he searched for an answer, "I was sent?"

She looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and horror in her eyes before she bit her bottom lip in a futile attempt to hold in her tears, "I need your help."

"What?" he asked instantly. He stepped closer to her, wishing that he could comfort her and hold her as she cried. He had always liked her and how she made his brother so happy. The two of them were so perfect together, and now their story was ending like this. A part of him still raged at the unfairness of it all, but he knew that all happened for a reason. No one had a reprieve from Death, not even his brother who deserved so much better than a life cut short.

"I need you to convince him to cross over." Her voice cracked, "He won't…. He won't listen to me." She choked back a sob.

He stared at her in bewilderment, "What do you mean? You've talked with him?"

She let out a bitter, throaty laugh that concealed an exasperated sob, "I talk to ghosts, Dan. _Of course_, I've talked with him."

His heart sank in sorrow, "I'm sorry, I… I didn't think."

She waved his apology away and glanced over her shoulder at the open hospital door a few feet away, "It's all right. It's been a difficult week. I…I haven't been myself." She looked back him, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I…I promised him I'd sign the papers."

He let out a shaky sigh, "Then he hasn't crossed yet?"

"No, he hasn't," she shook her head as she sobbed. "I don't think I can. I can't. I can't do it. I know he wants me to, but I _can't_. I have to get him across, but I don't want him to go, but I need him to go. I can't….I can't do this."

"Sit down," he gestured toward an empty row of hospital chairs, wishing that he could take her elbow and guide her there. Instead, he hovered close to her, shepherding her into moving without touching her. Clearly in a daze, she moved over to the wall and almost collapsed into the chair.

"Where are your friends?" he asked, looking around for any familiar faces roaming the corridor. There were none, except nurses, patients, the occasional doctor…and his earth-bound peers who looked eager to talk to his sister-in-law. He gave them his best warning glare, sending out a silent message for all of them to back off. She didn't notice as she ineffectively tried to wipe away her tears with the back of her hands.

"I told them to… I'm sorry, I asked Eli to pick up Faith from the airport and drive her up here. His—your mother ought to be here and I…" she sniffed, and he frantically searched for a tissue box, simultaneously wondering if it would be inconspicuous if he levitated the thing over to her and cursing the fact that he was just a spirit. She blindly dug in her purse and he mentally tugged out a small traveling pack of tissues from underneath her wallet. She smiled at him in teary thanks before she pulled one out and began to wipe her face.

"And Delia's in there…" she choked for a bit before taking an unsteady breath, "keeping watch for me."

"No change?" he asked sympathetically. She shook her head, her voice a broken whimper, "No. He's…I've seen his spirit, and we've talked, and he knows… and he won't go. He won't leave me. And I…I don't want him to leave either. What kind of…what kind of person does that make me?"

"Someone who loves her husband very much," he said quietly, trying to reassure her. He glanced at the open doorway a few feet away, where machines were all that kept his brother's body alive. He swallowed hard, wishing that this wasn't happening to his family.

"Please," she looked up at him, her dark eyes full of grief and confusion, "I need you to help me make sure he's safe. I need you to help me get him to cross over, before anyone can harm him."

They both knew who she was referring to, the enemies she had on the Dark side that could, and most likely would, come after Jim in a heartbeat if he stayed earth-bound.

"I promise," he whispered, gingerly wrapping his insubstantial arms around her as she cried, alone in a hospital corridor, facing a lifetime of grief ahead of her, "no matter what, I'll keep him safe, and I'll look out for you. I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

**Point of No Return**

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

Disclaimer: Other than being a weekly viewer, I have nothing to do with Ghost Whisperer.

* * *

Plagued by unsettling dreams, she woke in darkness and automatically reached out for his comforting, sleeping presence by her side. Her hand met nothing but air, and she blinked her eyes open, wondering for a moment where he was. Her breath caught on a choke of sudden tears when it hit her that he hadn't slept in their bed in months.

Habits ingrained after only a few years of marriage were so hard to break. She still reached for him in the middle of the night, still waited for him to join her in the shower, still longed for his strong embrace when she woke up in cold sweats from nightmares and visions. He was still her partner in life, and she still turned to him for comfort and love.

His side of the bed was cold and empty, and heartbreakingly so. She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened and made herself take several slow deep breaths until she felt the momentary urge to sob helplessly had passed.

Their children kicked against her ribs, sharply reminding her that she was not alone, and had never been. They had been with her from the beginning of this long journey back to normalcy, and they would always be with her. They had kept her going whenever she had fallen into despair over her situation, and given her a quiet comfort whenever she felt overwhelmed.

She rested a hand against her stomach, feeling their energetic movements underneath her skin, and smiled slightly, "I know, settle down now." Her children may have heard her and listened, or they might have decided that they had expressed their displeasure enough and settled back down to sleep; either way, they stopped trying to rearrange her internal organs.

Like she usually did now, whenever she woke from a restless sleep, she got up and pulled on a soft, long flannel bathrobe, tying the belt carefully before she made her cautious way out of their bedroom. She sidestepped the crib and the two bassinets that were stored underneath it, though she did run a hand over the smooth surface of the antique bureau that had been modified to serve as a changing station when the time came. With a quiet sigh, she walked out of their bedroom.

Keeping a tight hold of the newly installed handrail, she navigated her way in the dark by memory as she went down the steep flight of stairs. She did not look at the framed photographs that hung on the wall, their wedding pictures that captured their happiness with each other, candid shots as they worked around the house and the occasional childhood portrait. Those images would be too much for her raw emotions. She paused by one photograph for a moment before she finished descending the staircase.

She felt his presence brush the back of her mind as he silently followed her down the corridor into the study-turned-bedroom. Pushing open the half-open door, she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft snick. He took up a protective position in a darkened corner of the room. She half-ignored him as she walked over to the large bed that took up half of the room and settled down into a comfortable armchair. The two of them sat in silence for a long time.

"You should be asleep," he finally said, walking over to stand by her side.

"I know," she whispered, not taking her eyes off of her husband's sleeping form. His chest rose and fell with a reassuring monotony that was lulling in its steadiness. She found herself breathing in time with him. It was comforting and she slipped into a light doze as his brother stood watch over them both.

Her mindless state of slumber was broken when she felt the hairs of the back of her neck stand up. She relaxed back into the chair when she realized it was just Toby materializing into existence, and not some other, less than friendly, visitor. The golden Labrador padded softly over to her chair, nudging her knee with a wet nose. She lightly stroked his head. Instead of being awarded with a ghostly lick of appreciation, the dog gave her a pleading look before he sprawled on the floor by her feet.

"He doesn't like it when you don't get enough sleep," her deceased brother-in-law pointed out, bending down to ruffle the dog's coat. Both humans, living and non-living, knew that they weren't talking about the dog. As if sensing he was being excluded from the conversation, Toby opened his eyes to give them both a long-suffering look before he pointedly closed his eyes and went back to his dozing.

"I know," she repeated. He gave her a knowing look before he finished her unspoken thought, "but you can't sleep without him by your side."

"It's not that," she corrected mildly, "It's just… I miss the way things were, before…. but I know it could have been so much worse…" She trailed off.

"Many things could have been," he told her, "but they aren't. He's with you now, and that's what counts."

"Everyone's been so supportive throughout all of this," she said distantly. "I don't know how to thank them enough."

"Both of you have touched a lot of lives, Melinda. Why are you so surprised that your kindness is repaid with kindness?"

"It's…overwhelming, the outpouring from everyone. Delia taking over the store, Ned helping me with the housekeeping, Ophelia moving in to do what I can't do anymore, all of Jim's coworkers coming over and installing the equipment, the safety rails and taking shifts at night, just in case…I mean, I…" She choked back tears of gratitude, "I really don't know how to say thank you to all of them, and to you."

He smiled a little, "I made a promise."

"I know, but… you've just been there, and it helps." She looked at him, "You're so much like your brother, you know. You would have made someone very happy."

He shrugged, "That wasn't in the cards, but I'm here right now, making sure the both of you will be happy."

She nodded tiredly in acknowledgement, feeling exhaustion creeping up on her consciousness, but she stubbornly refused to close her eyes and sleep. She didn't want to rest, just in case this was all a wistful dream and a colder, harsher reality was waiting for her when she opened her eyes.

"I'm here, you know," he reassured her quietly, "If anything happens, I'll wake you."

She bit her lip, "Maybe I don't want to wake up if…"

"Hey," he intervened, "don't think like that. He'll be fine."

"You can't promise that," she pointed out, her hands unconsciously resting on her womb. "No one can."

"He loved you enough to stay for you," he said. "He loves you enough to live for you."

She nodded slowly, trying to make herself believe his words. He glanced toward the closed door, "Looks like you're not the only one up now." He brushed a hand across her shoulder, "Go back to sleep, Melinda. You'll need it soon."

He faded from her sight and senses just before the door creaked open and Tim Flaherty crept into the room. The paramedic smiled a little when he saw her sitting in the moonlight.

"Melinda, what are you doing still up?" he whispered. As he approached her, she smiled sheepishly, "Couldn't sleep."

Tim put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "He's going to be okay."

She nodded, "I try to tell myself that."

He scrutinized her for a moment before he nodded, as if confirming something to himself. He watched her with patient eyes and she looked away.

"I'm afraid of falling asleep," she finally confessed in a whisper. "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up and…" She cursed her hormones for making her eyes water and tear up again. There were moments when she wished she didn't have mood swings that had her smiling one moment and in hysterical tears the next.

"Hey, hey…" he soothed, squeezing her shoulder gently, "that's not going to happen."

"What's not going to happen?" Jim's voice was groggy as he woke up. His words were only slightly slurred now, as opposed to non-existent seven months ago when he had come off of life support and out of a coma.

"Your wife giving birth tonight, Clancy," drawled Tim with a degree of forced lightheartedness. The teasing tone didn't register with Jim who struggled to sit up in a panic, which in turn made her rise from her chair to help him.

Tim beat her to it, though, going to his partner's bedside and holding him in a sitting position while Melinda added a few extra pillows to cushion against the headboard. They settled him carefully back against the support. Jim shifted a little as he settled down, using the right side of his body to drag his weaker left side into a position that wouldn't strain anything.

"What's this about giving birth?" he squinted at his wife who rolled her eyes and responded, "I'm not in labor here."

While his body was temporarily (and perhaps, permanently) frail, Jim's mind was still sharp and alert. She knew he studied her with an EMT's calm eyes, and not a father-to-be's panicked gaze, before he looked at Flaherty with a deadpan expression.

"Tim, you're a worse paramedic than I am."

There was a choked laugh from the man in question who parried back, "Yeah and you were perfectly fine there a few minutes ago, Sleeping Beauty."

She smiled fondly at both men, "Stop it, you two. Really," she asked with mock exasperation, "how did your mothers survive raising you two?"

"By being very patient?" a new voice offered in answer from the doorway. Ophelia Clifford, her brown hair pulled messily back from her face in a hasty ponytail, walked into the room. As she pocketed her cell phone into her nightgown, the young second year nursing student asked lightheartedly, "Did I miss the memo that said we'd be having a midnight study party?"

It didn't go unnoticed on her part that the two medical professionals in the room exchanged questioning and reassuring glances before they turned their attention to her. When Ophelia had moved into the household as a tenant, part of the reason she had been recommended to do so as the fact that she was young and had some medical training. If there was an emergency, she would be at least able to perform certain tasks (like CPR or coaching someone through labor) until the paramedics could get there.

"Are you all right, Melinda?" the young woman asked quietly. She nodded, "I'm fine. The kids were just a little energetic."

The other woman smiled in response, "Well, I hope they've settled down now."

"They have."

"Are you still cramming for your midterm?" asked Jim, careful to enunciate his words so he could be understood. The young woman shook her head, "I've had the fundamentals of biology beaten into my head, thank you very much."

"I would hope so," teased Tim, who had helped her study and review after dinner whenever he came over. After a pause in the conversation, Ophelia sighed, "With all due respect and running the high risk of sounding like my mother, it's still late enough that we can all get some sleep in before our alarms go off in a few hours, so can we all get back to bed?"

"Sure," said Tim quickly, catching her eyes and tilting his head toward the bed. She glanced over in time to see her husband struggling to stay awake and she smiled ruefully, "That's a good idea."

The three of them helped Jim settle comfortably before Ophelia and Tim left the room, leaving the door half-closed to give the married couple the semblance of privacy. They both knew that Ophelia was probably hovering at the end of the hallway to help Melinda back up the steep flight of stairs, and that Tim was going back to his makeshift bed in the living room. This was their life now, where it was never just really the two of them, but four or six other people present at any given time. She sat down on the bed, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on the bedspread.

"What are you thinking about Mel?" he asked quietly, studying her face. She shook her head, "Nothing."

He raised his right hand and brushed it against her cheek, "You've been down here almost every night this week. What's been bothering you?"

Unwilling to give him an answer, she leaned down awkwardly and kissed him instead. When she pulled away, she said quietly, "It's nothing. You're here, and that's what matters."

His left hand moved to cover hers on the comforter, "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"No, I don't."

He stared at her a moment longer, reading whatever was written in her expression before he agreed, "You're right. We're together. That's what matters."

"I love you," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"I love you too," he told her, "Sleep well."

"You too."

She kissed him again before she pulled away. By the time she reached the doorway and turned back to look at him, he had fallen back asleep. She stood there for a few minutes, watching him sleep soundly and she was struck with gratitude that she could have this moment, a moment she thought she would never have again, that her family, as battered as it was, was still standing, still together. She prayed that it would always be like this, the four of them and their friends. As if in response, her children kicked again and she looked down the hallway to see Ophelia leaning against the staircase banister with her eyes closed as she heard Tim's quiet snores come from the living room.

She smiled to herself and took in a deep breath that she released as a sigh.

Everything _would_ be all right, because she was with the ones who mattered the most to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Point of No Return**

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

Disclaimer: Other than being a weekly viewer, I have nothing to do with Ghost Whisperer.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story, especially to those who have left reviews. Your encouragement means a lot to me. This story will probably become AU after tomorrow night's episode (during which I will probably require tissues, either to wipe away my tears or lob at the TV), but I've got at least one more chapter to post. As a final note, please excuse the medical inaccuracies I'm about to commit.

* * *

"Like this?" she asked, kneeling on the floor with her weight equally distributed on her knees and hands, her elbows extended and locked with her hands on top of each other on the practice dummy's chest. Jim shook his head and lightly tapped her thigh with his cane.

"No," he said, standing right next to her, "interlace your fingers more and move your hands higher."

She could feel his exasperated expression bore into the top of her head as he said patiently, "No, the heart is higher than you think it is, Ophelia."

"What are you two doing?" asked Melinda from behind her. The two of them—instructor and pupil—looked at the doorway. Breaking position she sat back on her ankles and half-turned around. Her landlady and friend stood by the open door, giving them both a perplexed look, "Ophelia, what are you doing on the ground?"

"CPR," she grumbled in reply, repositioning the practice dummy on the floor so he'd be less likely to trip over it. Her lesson wasn't exactly going quite the way she had imagined it would go. The grueling session served her right though, asking a county-certified paramedic to help her prepare for her practical exam. Just because he was currently dependent on a cane for balance, and a walker on his really bad days, didn't mean that his mind wasn't sharp and more than willing to call her on her technique. There wasn't anything wrong per se with her certification, but she had only done CPR in short spurts on plastic dummies, not for ten, twenty minutes straight with a paramedic snapping at her to put more strength into her compressions.

"She's practicing for her exams," explained Jim to his wife. Eight months and half pregnant, Melinda nodded distractedly, her mind clearly elsewhere as her hands rested protectively on her stomach.

"And failing," mumbled Ophelia to herself as she got back into proper position again and ignored her knees who didn't like being forced to kneel for so long on the hardwood floor. She sternly told herself to ignore the pain; she didn't get to choose when or where her patients decided to collapse and stop breathing.

"Not while I'm tutoring you," he firmly told his student. "Lock your elbows." She sighed and obeyed.

"Um…" Melinda cleared her throat nervously, "Are you busy?"

"Not really," both of them responded vaguely as Ophelia started the first cycle of chest compressions, but she noticed that Jim looked away from her to ask his wife, "What is it, Mel? Is something wrong?"

A moment later, she heard him ask sharply, "When did your contractions start?"

At his words, she immediately lost count of what she was doing and spun around to look at her friend. Melinda was looking a little scared and paler than usual. The mother-to-be smiled sheepishly, "They've been on and off since this afternoon. I didn't want to worry you."

She stood up so quickly that she nearly lost her own balance, practice dummy forgotten, "Okay, both of you, stay put, I'll go get the—"

"Ophelia, calm down," he said steadily, holding out his free hand. She froze in place, pinned by the command in his voice. He turned to his wife, "How close are your contractions?"

"Fifteen, ten minutes, I think," she sank gratefully onto the couch. Already moving to her side, his cane squeaking against the floorboards, he shook his head, "Up, Mel, you've got to walk. It will help."

He held out an arm to his wife before he gave Ophelia a stern look as he instructed, "Put the dummy away, go grab her bag and get the car ready, and then come back here."

She took a deep, calming breath and nodded, running through a checklist of things that needed to be done in her mind as she hoisted the dummy over her shoulder in a fireman's carry and exited the room at a brisk walk. The young woman dumped the floppy mannequin in the hallway closet, exchanging it for a zipped duffle bag. Then she went around the house, turning off lights and tidying the kitchen, as she began making phone calls to various people to let them know what was going on. Most of the reactions were calm, though she had to spend more time fending off people's offers to come immediately over to help than actually delivering the news. She made sure to put both Melinda's maternity bag and Jim's walker in the trunk of the car (but not the car keys, which she placed securely in her jean pocket).

By the time she was done and had reentered the house, it was to find that Melinda was in active labor. To quell her panic, the nursing student reminded herself that her friend was fairly young, in good health and hadn't done anything risky in the past six months, as she took Melinda's weight onto her petite frame. As soon as he had transferred his wife's weight to another support, Jim sat down on the couch with a sigh of exhaustion, which prompted Melinda to almost knock both of them over when she spun around to look at her husband. He waved off her concern with a tired, but still charming, curve of his lips.

"I'm fine," he insisted, leaning his cane against the low table for a moment. "Ophelia, take her out to the car. I'll be right behind you."

"Jim—"

"Melinda," he said in a soothing tone, "I'm fine. Let Ophelia take you out to the car. She's not Tim, so she's not going to be able to carry you, all right? I'm going to be right behind you in a few minutes."

She gave her husband a terrified look and he smiled reassuringly at her before she let herself be led away. As the two women staggered down the corridor, Ophelia muttered, "I'll get you in the car, and then I'll come back and get him, okay?"

Melinda nodded and bit back a whimper as another contraction hit. She leaned them both against the nearest wall and couched quietly, "Breath, slow deep breaths…"

It seemed to take forever to Ophelia before her friend was safety buckled into the backseat of the car and she was able to run back into the house. She had barely gotten halfway down the corridor before she nearly collided with Jim. As she helped him keep his footing, he gave her an unimpressed look that was on par to one of her professor's death glares, "Calm down."

"I am calm," she responded, as he graciously accepted her offered arm for balance. "It's your wife who wants you, and I am not about to argue with a woman in labor."

He chuckled as the two of them made their way out of the house, with only a pause to lock the front door behind them, "You are very right about that."

"You've got yoursef a keeper husband," called Ophelia into the interior of the car as she opened the passenger door for him, "you know that Melinda?"

"Of course, I do," her friend panted out in the middle of a contraction. She had a death grip on the interior door handle, "That's how I put up with him."

"She loves you," translated Ophelia quickly with an amused grin before she shut the door. After slipping his cane into the narrow empty space between the gear shift and his seat, Jim buckled his seatbelt just in time to catch Ophelia's cell phone with both hands as she hopped into the car and slammed the door behind her. After buckling her own seatbelt, the young woman started the car and quickly backed out of the driveway, taking them down the empty streets of Grandview with all prudent speed.

* * *

Ophelia sat in the maternity ward's waiting room, alternating between going over her review notes in her head and mentally ricocheting off the walls for the lack of anything else to do. She had greeted paramedics who had dropped by between runs to see how Jim and Melinda were doing. Even though Jim was still sidelined with physical therapy, he was still active in mentoring and instructing EMT students, and his colleagues never failed to keep a close eye out for things they could do for him and his family.

She watched as Melinda's two academic friends—sarcastic researcher and reluctant protégé—verbally spar with each other over their experiences in academia. As she observed them, she guessed that Rick was slightly envious of his colleague while it was rather clear that Eli wanted to be left alone. The psychology professor kept aiming irritated glares at a corner of the waiting room.... Then again, he always had a campus reputation of being a bit of a "difficult" professor.

She glanced at the clock and entertained herself with counting off the hours, minutes and seconds since they had arrived at the hospital. They were heading into the seventh hour (six hours, forty-five minutes and twenty-six, seven seconds). It was nearly midnight and the chairs, understuffed as they were, were being to look inviting as makeshift beds. She was still staring blankly at the most comfortable-looking chair in the area when Rick sprang to his feet, brimming with anxious energy. She immediately stood and looked toward the corridor.

Clearly exhausted and leaning heavily on his cane, Jim was walking slowly down the hallway toward them. Without thinking about it, she quickly went to his weaker side, silently offering a choice between his walker and her arm. He took what he thought was the easier choice and leaned heavily against her before he looked at his wife's friends.

"Rick, Eli…" he greeted, a little breathlessly from his long vigil. Without a word, Rick moved to brace Jim's right side while Eli gently, but firmly, took Ophelia's place on the paramedic instructor's left.

"Well?" asked Rick, a tad impatiently as the trio of men and the lone nursing student turned around. Jim grinned proudly, his fatigue suddenly vanishing as his exhilaration took over. They turned a corner and he pointed at one of the open doorways. He told them, "Go."

None of his three companions left him. In fact, Ophelia exchanged an exasperated glance with Eli and Rick muttered something under his breath. Whatever it was, it was too soft for her to understand it.

When they stepped into the room, both professors dropped their hands and let Jim walk into his wife and children's presence unaided. He quickly sank into the bedside chair, his energy reserves used up for the week or so. Melinda was sitting up in bed, her brown hair pulled back from her face in a messy ponytail, clearly exhausted but also glowing with pride. She smiled radiantly in greeting, "Rick, Eli, I didn't know you'd stayed."

"For this?" said Rick, hovering nervously next to Eli who also looked a little skittish, "This is totally worth it."

He walked cautiously over to the two baby beds that were in the room and bent over slightly to look at the squirming bundles inside.

"So these are the new Whisperers, hmm?" he asked, half to himself. Ophelia braced herself for an awkward moment, but the only reaction the comment garnered from her friends was an exchange of amused looks. She patiently reminded herself that Professor Payne had always been a little…eccentric and quasi-obtuse about social norms.

Nervously clearing his throat, the other professor in the room also went over to look at the newborns. He stammered, "They're—they're very adorable."

Melinda laughed a little, "Thank you, Eli."

Ophelia squeezed herself in between the two men and heard herself coo when she saw the twins swaddled in their blankets and caps. She gently reached out and ran a finger down the baby girl's cheek.

"What are their names?" she asked softly, almost in awe. Jim was clearly the proud father when he responded, "Emma Grace and Benjamin Daniel."

"Emma means Universal and Benjamin means Son of My Right Hand," mused Rick. He gave the married couple a questioning look that only received a pair of secretive, amused smiles in response. He shook his head in mock despair. Ophelia giggled when Benjamin tightly held onto her index finger in his tiny fist. She looked up at the new parents and said, "They're beautiful."

Jim and Melinda looked at each other, the love and trust between them so clear, before he responded quietly, "Yes. Yes, they are."


	4. Chapter 4

**Point of No Return**

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

Disclaimer: Other than being a weekly viewer, I have nothing to do with Ghost Whisperer.

Author's Note: Last night's episode was… I don't even know how to characterize it.

As a point of clarification: in this story, Jim is successfully resuscitated, but immediately suffers a stroke caused by his embolism. Melinda is devastated when his doctors place him on life support. After an extended stay, he is released from the hospital and begins a long road to recovery at home. During this period, Ophelia is a college student who lives with Melinda and Jim as a tenant, but also acts as an unofficial live-in caretaker for both of them. Despite partial weakness on his left side, Jim continues working with the fire department as an unofficial mentor to newbie paramedics until he can return to work full-time. As for Dan, he's always keeping an eye out for his little brother and sister-in-law.

I hope that clears up any confusion. Again, thank you all for reading and reviewing.

* * *

Leaning against the railing of the back porch, he watched them with a contented smile. It was a beautiful day, made all the sweeter by the sight of his family before him.

The warm summer sunshine illuminated the laughing tableau of mother and children as they played together in the backyard. Joy radiated from her face as she chased and was chased by her son and daughter around the garden. Benjamin laughed as his mother tickled him before he could squirm free of her grasp. His twin sister Emma giggled as she picked up a tennis ball that rolled to rest at her feet.

"Here, Toby," she pulled back her arm and threw the tennis ball halfway across the yard. A moment later, she shrieked with laughter and put her hands out in front of her in a mock defensive posture as she spoke to the lilacs.

"No, Toby," she said sternly, "no licking. Go catch!" She pointed at where the ball had bounced to a stop near the oak tree.

"Toby," her mother chided lightly, swinging Benjamin around in the air, much to his delight before putting him back on solid ground, "play catch with my little monsters, don't eat them."

Benjamin growled playfully before latching onto her back and a moment later, Emma did the same. Their mother went down in a tangle of limbs and giggles. She retaliated by starting a tickle war that had all of them gasping for air after laughing too much.

"Okay you two, do you want lunch?" she asked breathlessly, extricating herself from their roughhousing. She was greeted with eager suggestions as she stood up, brushing imaginary grass clippings off her long, daisy-yellow sundress.

"Stay out here," she toward them before she glanced at a shady corner of the backyard and smiled in greeting. "Listen to your Uncle Dan now."

"Yes Mommy," her children chorused before plunging back into their games. "Here, Toby, boy! Where's your ball? Where's your ball, Toby?"

"Let's play catch! Come on!"

"Aww…Toby, don't lick Uncle Dan like that!"

With a radiant smile, she walked up the back steps and came over to join him in the shade of the porch awning. Resting her head against the painted wooden surface, she leaned against the support post and watched as their children continued to run in circles, laughing and calling to each other and the invisible Toby. Benjamin had finally found the tennis ball by the oak tree. The little boy picked up the tennis ball and held it out in front of him, "Hey Toby, look. Do you want to play catch? Okay? No…whoa, Toby!"

Without any visible reason, he toppled over backwards to land in the grass. His sister scolded, "He wants to play tag, silly!"

Watching the antics of his son and daughter, he looked at his wife and asked dryly, "Should I be worried that our children are playing with a ghost dog?"

She laughed lightly as she came over to stand next to him. Automatically, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. She rested her head against his shoulder, "No, he's harmless…and he's cute."

She pulled away from him, only to tug him down to sit next to her on the porch swing. With a hard push against the ground with his left foot, he set them both rocking back and forth before he pulled her into a reclining position, half on top of him. He wrapped both of his arms around her and she snuggled in close to him as they watched their children shriek with mirth.

"What kind of dog is he?" he asked idly. She tilted her head thoughtfully, "I'd say he's a Golden Labrador who's great with kids." She looked up at him with a mischievous smile, "He wipes them out in time for their bedtimes."

He laughed at the impish twinkle in her eyes before he asked, "Shouldn't you try to cross him over?"

She gave him an amused look before she retorted, "I've _been_ trying for the past five years, but I think he enjoys the company now." She squirmed a little and he released his grip on her enough so that she could turn around in his arms and face him as they rocked back and forth.

"Plus, he has all the perks of a real dog," she added with a hint of glee, "with none of the drawbacks. We don't have to walk him or take him to the vet or feed him."

"No," he deadpanned, "he just wakes us up in the middle of the night wanting to play catch."

She giggled because it was true: Toby occasionally had the worst timing when it came to disrupting people's privacy and slumber in the middle of the night. Jim continued thoughtfully in mock contemplation, "On the other hand, he doesn't bite, right?"

She laughed and shook her head, "Nope. Toby adores children."

"You think he'll mind one more?"

She shared his secret smile, "I don't think so. After all," she said softly, the corner of her lips curling with bliss at the memories, "it's his doing that gave us all those quiet nights."

He didn't bother to hide his self-satisfied smirk, and he didn't really mind when she smacked his shoulder lightly, a beautiful blush spreading across her face. Her soft laugh lit up her features with all the joys of motherhood and never failed to remind him why he had married her in the first place: she was love and life, happiness and peace.

"Uncle Dan, please play with us?" begged Emma, her sweet brown eyes wide and imploring as she looked up into the oak tree's massive branches. Her brother joined in, all boyish eagerness in his voice as he said, "Toby really wants you to play too."

By now, he knew better than to assume that his son and daughter were talking to an invisible friend. From the time they could talk, they had always included their "Uncle Dan" in daily family life in one way or another. It hadn't taken very long before he had pulled the truth out of his wife. On the other hand, he took comfort that his brother was still a part of his family's life. It had been a little unnerving at first, to know that his brother was constantly watching over his family, but after a while, it had made sense. After all, people spoke about guardian angels all the time… His family just happened to know the precise identity of their own protective spirit.

He asked quietly, "Do you think this will stay with them?"

Knowing precisely what he was talking about she glanced at their son and daughter, still eagerly attempting to persuade their uncle to play with them while fending off Toby's eager entreaties to play.

"I don't know," she said softly. "I guess it's possible."

Sensing her unease, he hugged her and reassured her warmly, "Hey, we're both here to teach them how to handle it."

She nodded, relaxing against him with a heavy sigh, "You're right…I just…I just hope that they'll stay away until Ben and Emma are ready to handle it."

He kissed her hair, knowing what she meant. While she still never spoke of her struggles with the Dark side in much detail, he had some inkling of the metaphysical war that was the occurring from the consequences she suffered when ghosts didn't cross over and his own conversations with Eli and Rick. Those discussions, though enlightening, never were reassuring. There were days when he wished he could shield their children from the dangers of the Spirit World, but he understood that their abilities were an essential part of who they were, just as Melinda's abilities were a vital part of who she was.

"We'll do our best," he promised her with a glance at the backyard where their children were playing with their invisible playmates and guardians. "Besides, we've got Dan and Toby on our sides."

She laughed, "Don't count Rick or Eli out either."

"Academics and their egos," he murmured playfully, running his fingers through her hair as he started kissing her. She gently pushed him away with a smile, "Not here. I need to go make lunch for everyone."

He pulled her gently back in for more kisses, responding in between each kiss, "Picnic lunch, all ready packed."

"You're a wonderful husband and father," she told him breathlessly as he tenderly stole her air, "you know that?"

"Very much so," he responded with a smirk.

"Eww!" Ben said loudly to his twin sister, his little face scrunched up with distaste. "They're kissing again."

Emma just rolled her eyes, "It's Mommy and Daddy, Ben."

Melinda and Jim broke apart from their embrace, a little rueful at being interrupted, but when they met each other's gaze, they started to giggle uncontrollably as they struggled to sit up on the still-moving porch swing. Their children gave loud, mock exasperated sighs. Despite their young age, they were used to their parents being all kissy-face with each other.

"Do you think we should tell them now?" he asked in a whisper, putting a gentle hand against where their daughter was safety growing. She smiled, "Tonight, after desert."

He chuckled, "You think they'll sleep tonight then?"

"I'm not a hundred percent sure they'll understand," she said before she added, "And don't you dare go showing them your medical textbooks."

"Are we going to go with the baby and the stork explanation?" he teased. She bit back her chuckle, "No, but just don't confuse them."

He nodded with exaggerated understanding, "Got it, keep it simple, keep it vague."

She smiled playfully, "You've got it." She stood up, slipping out of his arms, "I'll go get the basket. You can round up the munchkins."

He grinned back at her, "Got it."

As she turned to go into the house, he stepped off the back porch and opened his arms, calling out, "Who wants to go to the park?"

"I do! I do!" Two happy blurs of energy ran into his arms, and his son and daughter laughed as they tackled him. He looked back toward the house, where his wife stood on the back porch with a picnic basket slung on her arm. She was smiling the same smile of pure happiness as she had smiled on their wedding day and on the day their twins were born. As he swung his children around, eliciting happy shrieks of joy, under the clear summer sky, he gave thanks for everything he had: his life, his job, and above all, his family.


	5. Chapter 5

**Point of No Return**

By Dragon's Daughter

Disclaimer: Other than being a weekly viewer, I have nothing to do with Ghost Whisperer.

Author's Note: I couldn't get Benjamin and Emma to quiet down and finish breakfast quickly. They insisted on sidetracking the scene. Oh well, they are adorably irresistible six year olds…

* * *

"I'm scared," she sobbed quietly, loose strands of her blonde hair sticking to her tearstained face. The glare of massive emergency floodlights set up in the darkened main street bleached out all color in the area, making the bloody gash on her forehead stand out vividly against her pale skin. Half of her face was in shadow under the car's roof, but there was enough illumination for him to see the stark terror in her eyes when she glanced at him. He reached down into his kit for some gauze pads and medical tape.

"It's okay," he soothed over the organized chaos of his colleagues as they set up their equipment. With firm pressure on the head wound, he taped down a temporary bandage. "We're going to get you out of here."

When he was done with the medical gauze, he reached back into his kit and broke open an alcohol wipe packet. He gently began to wipe the tears and blood away from her face, tucking her hair back behind her ears as he did so, remaining mindful of the cervical collar fastened around her neck. Moving carefully as to not dislodge the IV bag he had wedged between the seats, he tried to make her as comfortable as possible.

"So you're a senior in high school?" he asked conversationally, trying to take her attention off of the situation around her. She started to move her head, winced and said, "I just graduated."

"Oh, are you going off to college in the fall?"

"I was," she responded shakily. He gave her a reassuring smile, "You will. We'll get you out of here soon."

"Clancy," someone called out from behind him. He squeezed her arm, "I'll be right back, all right?"

"Okay," she whimpered, her terror clearly struggling to break free of her composure. He nodded one more time, trying to keep her calm, "It's okay."

He carefully pulled himself out of the twisted wreck of the young woman's car, mindful of the sharp edges of the metal that threatened to snag his pants. He covertly arched his back and stretched muscles had been hunched over in the small, cramped space that remained of a spacious vehicle interior.

"Well?" he asked Dobbins, head of Grandview's rescue squad, with an expectant expression. With his usual taciturn look, the older man handed him a thick blanket, "We're ready."

He took the protective covering with a nod and quickly crawled back into the front passenger seat, hearing glass crunch underneath his weight when he knelt down on the protective blanket. She watched his return with relief.

"How are you doing?" he asked quietly, reaching down into his kit. He was aware that she was watching him with wide-eyes as he prepared a syringe of morphine and capped it before slipping it into his front vest.

"Okay," she responded, her voice wavering a little. Her strained expression told him that she kind of thought it was an inane question to be asking someone who was stuck in the wreck of her car. He smiled ruefully at her and she seemed a little calmer now in his presence. He balanced himself carefully before he began unfolding the blanket in the limited space that the two of them were in.

"All right, I'm going to need your help," he told her, awkwardly holding up the thick blanket for her to see easily, "we need to get this between you and the door, so I'm going to lean over you and I need you to hold very still while I do this."

"Okay," she said, pressing herself back into her seat as much as possible. He leaned over her and began wedging the blanket between her and the driver side's door as much as possible, taking extra care to protect her legs, pinned underneath the dashboard, and her head. Double-checking that she wouldn't be covered with broken glass once the cutters were employed, he sat back and hunched down a little to protect himself as well.

"Clancy?" someone yelled from outside the vehicle. He turned his head and yelled back, "Ready!"

He looked back at his patient who was starting to look a little panicked at the increase in noise, "What's going on?"

"Don't worry," he told her, "I'm staying right here with you." Leaning with his shoulder resting against the passenger headrest, he covered her head enough to shield her from the breaking glass while holding the fabric away from her face so she could breathe.

"Sir?" she questioned again, her breathing going shallow and rapid. "What's—" Her eyes went wide with terror at the sound of the cutters punching through metal. He rubbed her arm with his free hand, "It's okay. We're just getting ready to get you out of here. Hang in there."

He kept up a steady stream of reassurances and calming words as his colleagues first pried off the car door and then rolled the dashboard forward off of her legs. She bit back a cry of pain at the pressure came off of her legs, her breathing hiccupping unevenly, and he quickly flipped the padded blanket away from her face, ignoring the slivers of glass that fell to the ground, before he took out the syringe, uncapped it and injected it into her IV line. Her shaky sobs subsided into soft whimpers as the painkiller took effect. He recapped the syringe and put it in a small Sharps container in his kit.

Tim was already on her other side, backboard on the ground and gurney behind him. With a nod, the two of them carefully lifted her out of the car, with Dobbins stepping in to gently cradle her broken legs as they were freed and another firefighter snagging the back of his belt to make sure he didn't lose his balance and take a header into the ground. He passed the IV bag over to Tim, who grimaced in a bit of a conundrum before taking it and giving him a look. He nodded.

With careful speed, he scrambled back out of the car, stepping onto the solid pavement, and turned around, intent on thanking the person who had stopped him from falling. But his coworker had vanished back into the chaotic scene, and as he reached back into the car to grab his kit and the blanket he had been kneeling on, he made a quick note of the incident. Then again, there would be no doubt of the ribbing he'd get from whoever it was once they were back at the firehouse.

Putting those thoughts out of his mind, he ran over to the rig, setting down his things before going back to help Tim lift her onto the gurney and strap her down for transport. With care, they loaded her into the ambulance, taking care to minimize the jostling. He climbed in back as Tim shut the doors of the rig behind him. Fitting a nasal cannula over her face, he smiled comfortingly at her, "We're going to be at the hospital soon."

"Do you think my mom and dad will be waiting there?" she asked quietly in a daze, battling both the morphine and the pain to stay conscious. He patted her hand reassuringly before he started taking her vitals, "Yes, they'll be there."

As he promised, the ride was short and he briskly handed her off to the ER team that greeted them, rattling off her stats as they moved her into a treatment area. He squeezed her arm one last time before he stepped back and let the doctors take over completely.

Tim walked with him as they strode out of the busy ER area and back into the ambulance bay. He glanced at his partner who sighed tiredly and muttered, "Hell of a night."

Detecting the faintest whiff of something sour on his partner's clothing, he frowned and asked, "The other driver was drunk?"

Tim nodded resignedly, "Yep, threw up all over my jacket. Delia's going to be thrilled." He nodded toward the ER entrance, "How's the girl?"

"A little shocky," he glanced back at the open doors before he pulled himself up into the rig's interior. "I think she'll be okay though."

"She certainly calmed down a lot once she saw you," teased Tim. He rolled his eyes when his partner continued, "Looks like the Clancy smile hasn't lost its charm."

Tim climbed in after him and the two of them began to tidy the back of the ambulance, the routine so instinctual now that they didn't really need to tell or ask each other to complete certain tasks. He brushed off his partner's comments, "She was just happy to be out of there."

"Right…" Tim drawled, not bothering to hide his amusement. He shrugged it off, picking up discarded plastic wrappings and handed them over to Tim who put in their little trash can, "So the other driver, what happened with him?"

"The guy wasn't anywhere close to being just drunk," muttered Tim darkly. "He was completely wasted. I have no idea how he managed to get behind the wheel."

He shook his head, "It happens. Did they haul him in?"

"Nope, Ryan and Joe took him in. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt, broke a few ribs probably, but the lucky SOB didn't get thrown out of the car." Tim carefully sealed the used blankets in plastic bags for thorough cleaning back at the station. He tucked them out of the way before his partner nudged his shoulder, "Hell of a first week back on night shift."

He chuckled a little, "Like it wasn't a wild ride last month?"

Tim scoffed, "True."

A crisp knock on the open door made them both turn to look at their visitor. Ryan tilted his head slightly as he leaned against the door.

"Get yourselves back to the station," the other paramedic said. "Joe and I can handle any more calls tonight."

"You sure about that, Wilson?" asked Tim.

"It's not a problem for us to stay on a little longer," he added with a shrug. "We're almost off-duty anyway."

"Well then," Ryan spoke as if that settled everything. He straightened up from his slouch and advised, "Drive slowly. We'll cover any calls."

"Still…" he gave his colleague a look that the other man understood, even as he waved his hand dismissively, "Yeah, yeah… we'll give you a holler if we need you." Ryan chuckled, "Go home to your doting wives, you two. See ya."

He walked off with a wave and the two partners looked at each other as they finished tidying up.

"Back to the station then?" offered Tim as the two of them climbed out of the back of their rig and secured the doors shut.

"Drive slowly," he advised jokingly before they went around to their respective sides. Tim climbed into the driver's seat as he shut the door on the passenger side and fastened his seatbelt.

"Are you saying I'm old, Clancy?" asked Tim with mock indignation as he pulled out of the ER bay. He chuckled in response as they drove leisurely back to the fire station in the gray early morning light.

"I'm just saying, it's been a long night."

"Uh-huh…"

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, one that lasted all the way back to the station. After restocking their supplies and a quick shower, the two of them parted ways to return to their sleeping families.

* * *

He pulled into the driveway and made his way to the front door just as the morning sun came over the horizon, its golden rays still warm in the rapidly encroaching autumn days. Unlocking the door, he slipped into the sleeping house and securely locked the door behind him before he shrugged off his paramedic jacket and hung it next to his wife's coat and above two jackets—one red and one green. He chuckled to himself once again at the accidental color coordinating that his children had going on. It was going to be cute watching the twins' reaction during the holiday months when people started commenting on how their coats perfectly matched the season.

A tennis ball bounced down the stairs and rolled to a stop at his feet. He smiled and picked up the object, whispering in a low voice, "Not now, Toby. It's too early."

He put the tennis ball in the drawer of the hallway table before he checked his watch, deciding that it was just early enough to put on some coffee and start making breakfast pancakes. He went into the kitchen and chuckled to see that the mixing bowl had already been set out on the counter along with the pancake mix and that the refrigerator door was swinging open. It froze in place, as if it felt suddenly felt guilty at being caught. He smothered his laughter and said quietly, "Thanks Dan, but let me handle the eggs."

The fridge door swung open completely, managing somehow to convey his big brother's mock indignation at the implication he would drop the egg carton. Again.

Still trying not to laugh, he walked forward into the kitchen proper and began to take out the necessary ingredients to make his children's favorite meal. As he worked, he started talking about his night shift and how it was a little frustrating sometimes when he still had to take a breather before plunging back into his work. He vented about drunk drivers and the risk they put everyone in whenever they got behind the wheel of a car. By the time the pancakes were done, he felt relaxed from the stresses of his job. It didn't feel too weird to talk aloud to his big brother anymore, and he found that it helped, even if he couldn't hear Dan's advice.

"Jim?"

He looked up in surprise from the stack of pancakes he was putting on a plate, "Hi. I was going to surprise you in bed."

She laughed as she stepped into the room, already dressed for the day, and came over to him. She welcomed him back home with a long kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. Acting on impulse, he picked her up and swung her around, eliciting a quiet shriek of surprise from her. He hushed her with a smile, "You'll wake the kids."

She giggled and leaned against him, her eyes sparkling with mirth, "Well, wasn't that the point?" Then she glanced at the small mountain of pancakes he had made, "Besides, who else would eat all those yummy pancakes?"

She slipped out of his arms and opened the fridge, "How was your shift?"

As she closed the fridge door, gallon jug of milk in hand, he took four clean glasses from the dish rack and set them on the counter before he responded, "It was…all right. A drunk driver slammed into a high school grad; it took a while to get her out."

"Is she going to be okay?" she asked as she poured four very full glasses.

He sighed, "She's young and healthy. She's got a good chance."

She smiled sympathetically at him and reached up to touch his cheek. "You did your best."

He nodded, "I know." Deciding that he had enough of this sort of conversation, he asked lightly, "How are the kids?"

She turned away from him, opening the fridge to put the milk away, "Emma and Ben went to bed without too much of a fight, but Sophia fussed the entire night."

He frowned a little, "She wouldn't sleep?"

She sighed tiredly and closed the fridge door, turning around to face him, "Not without me holding her and rocking her to sleep. I hope she's just teething."

He appreciated the oddness in his life. Besides his wife and himself, he didn't know of many parents who would pray that their youngest child's insomnia was brought on by the aching pain of growing teeth, instead of being haunted by an unruly spirit. He saw the slight shadows underneath her eyes and hoped that she hadn't already put on makeup to convince him that she was awake enough at this hour of the morning to safely drive the kids to school.

"Maybe I shouldn't have made coffee then," he said, gesturing to the coffee machine. She smiled, "I have to go the store today, anyway, and drop the kids off at school, so…"

"Maybe you should ask Delia if you can take a half-day," he held out his hands to her. She shook her head as she took his hands and let him pull her close, "Delia's got plans with Ned, Kat and Tim."

Wrapping his arms around her waist and linking his hands in the small of her back, he arched an eyebrow, "Really? Tim didn't say anything about this."

"That's because Tim doesn't know." She added, "Well, and Delia doesn't know yet either. Ned's planning a surprise getaway for the entire family for the weekend."

"Ah…" he nodded in understanding. "Well then, can I come in afterschool with the kids? Have them sit in the back and do their homework while I help you in the store?"

She smiled at him, "That would be nice, but I don't think the vases and glass ornaments back there would survive. Especially if Toby shows up."

She looked toward the kitchen table and laughed as one of the chairs squeaked as if it had been nudged aside by a canine sticking his head out reproachfully from under the table. Looking back at him, she shook her head, "Don't worry about me. Ophelia's coming after her morning classes, so I won't be alone. Plus, I'll have Sophie with me."

He nodded and kissed her forehead, "All right, but if you need me to pick you up or drive you home."

She nodded indulgently, "Yes yes I know, I'll call you." She poured herself a cup of coffee, knowing better than to offer one to him. He needed his sleep. She nodded toward the stairs with a perceptive smile, "You want to wake them?"

He dropped a kiss on her lips, "Be right back with the munchkins."

She laughed, stealing another kiss from him before she let him go. He walked out of the kitchen quietly and made his way up the stairs, passing by family portraits and individual snapshots of each of their children: Emma with her mother's smile, Benjamin with his father's eyes, and little Sophia with both her parents' charm. They were together in the hospital, at home, on the swings at the park, in the backyard. He paused briefly at one picture and studied it for a moment.

It was a photograph taken at the lake he used to go to with his dad when something was bothering him. He hadn't been there in years before the trip, and thought it would a good way to show his dad the Clancy family now. The picture showed the four of them—well, five actually if he counted Sophia who was, at that point in time, still four months away from making her entrance into the world—sitting on a picnic blanket, obviously happy about something judging by the way his wife was laughing and leaning against him while the twins were in a tussle over the last piece of apple pie. There were just the slightest discolorations at the edge of the picture: one by the dock where someone would stand and another at the edge of blanket where a pet, like a dog, would rest when not actively egging his pint-sized playmates into games with him.

The decision to go had been a bit of an impulse on his part and Melinda had been a little wary at first at the idea of the long car trip with two hyperactive children in the backseat while she was pregnant. Then she had abruptly come around and firmly told their children to behave. He recalled that Emma and Ben had been, for their age, remarkably well behaved on the car drive to and from the remote lake. He wondered if his brother had anything to do with that and wished he could not only ask Dan, but talk to him as well. There were moments when it was surreal to be the only person in the room who _couldn't_ see, hear or talk to earth-bound spirits, and other times when it was frustrating, especially when his wife was working to cross over a stubborn spirit that got violent or when his children ran to him in the middle of the day, complaining about an angry playmate that no one else could see. He wanted to be a part of that portion of their lives, but sometimes it was hard to live with a household of two spirits and four whisperers, blind to the dangers that surrounded them.

Warmth touched his shoulder briefly, like a hand squeezing reassuringly in comfort, and he turned away from the picture to smile at the air. He knew who it was. This wasn't the first time his big brother stepped in to tell him that he was around too to watch over the family, to guard against the dangers that the paramedic couldn't see or feel.

"I've got it, Dan," he said quietly, resuming his ascent up the stairs.

With soft footfalls, he walked down the hallway and nudged open the second door on his right. Morning sunshine streamed into his elder daughter's room, flooding the tidy room with warm golden light, and fell over her sleeping form, curled up in her soft blue blankets. He sat down carefully on her child-sized bed and reached out to stroke her hair. She stirred under his touch a few times before her eyes blinked open sleepily. When Emma saw him, she snapped awake with the energy of a six-year-old and leapt forward into his arms with a cry of, "Daddy! You're home!"

He laughed as he hugged her, "Yes, Emma, I am." He kissed her before letting her sit back on her bed. "Now, it's time for school, so get dressed and go downstairs. I made pancakes for breakfast."

"Yay!" she said, tossing back her covers excitedly and scooting to the edge of her bed. She paused in her rush to get dressed and looked up at him with the sincerity of young children, "I love you Daddy."

"I love you too," he told her, dropping one more kiss in her hair before he walked toward the door, "Remember, get dressed for school first."

"I know!" she said as he almost closed the door behind him. He walked to the next half-open door and pushed it open with a little creak. Benjamin launched himself at him so fast that he barely had time to catch his son and swing him up into a hug.

"Daddy, Emma's too loud," the little boy complained, clinging to him. He chuckled, "You're just as loud as her, Superman." He rested his cheek against his son's hair for a moment before he put Benjamin back down. It was then that he noticed that the boy was already half-dressed for school; Emma must have been loud enough to wake him up as well. He playfully ruffled his son's bed hair and earned a pout in response, "Daddy…."

"Sorry," he smoothed over hair that really needed a comb and told Ben, "There's pancakes for breakfast."

At that, Ben's eyes lit up, "Your special pancakes?"

"Yep."

"Yay!" Ben attacked his father's waist with a vise-like hug that was as brief as a single flap of a hummingbird's wings. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said to his son and left the young boy to his own devices, also almost-closing the door completely behind him. Then he moved onto the master bedroom, which had, until very recently, retained the same configuration it had on the day they first moved in.

The king-sized bed was still in the same place it had always been, though his bureau had been shifted slightly to the right to eliminate a tripping hazard. The pillows on the alcove, the billowy window curtains and most of the furniture were all the same. The recent additions were the modified baby-changing table which was tucked right next to Melinda's vanity, a rocking chair situated next to the window, and the infant crib placed next to their bed. He crept across the room, mindful of the floorboards that still squeaked, and peered down into the crib.

He smiled to see their youngest daughter was still asleep, her little chest rise and falling in a steady beat as she dreamed. The morning light warmed her cheeks like a rose in full bloom and he tucked the beautiful moment away in his heart. Picking up the shawl that was draped over the back of the rocking chair, he put it over his left shoulder and arm before carefully lifting Sophia into his arms, wrapping her up in the warm cloth. His movements earned him a little fuss of discomfort from her before she went back to her doze.

He rocked a little as he walked, which seemed to lull her even deeper into her sleep. When he strolled out of the master bedroom, cradling Sophia in his arms, he grinned to see both of his elder children's doors standing wide open. He could hear their enthusiastic chatter coming from the kitchen, intermixed with his wife's fond, if slightly exasperated, words. He carefully made his way down the stairs, making sure not to miss a single step, and walked into the kitchen to see his family already eating at the table. Well, Emma and Ben were eating. His wife stood up from her seat between their twins and held out her hands. He carefully transferred Sophia's weight into her arms before taking a seat next to Ben, who was demolishing his pancake more than he was eating it.

"Are you going to eat it or cut it into little pieces?" he asked in query.

"I'm going to eat it," responded Ben, studiously cutting the bite-sized pieces even smaller, his forehead wrinkling with concentration. Not looking up from her puddle of maple syrup, Emma popped up, "That's because Tessa told him to."

Ben glared at his sister for apparently spilling a secret. She looked perfectly unrepentant at her words, sticking in another piece of pancake in her mouth with her fork. Remembering the various elementary school crushes he had, he exchanged amused looks with his wife over their children's antics. Smothering a laugh, Melinda said, "Settle down now you two and finish breakfast. We'll have to leave soon."

She tilted her head at the counter and he saw the half-made sandwich that was sitting there. He got up from his seat to finish making their children's lunch. Emma peered over her mother's shoulder, half of a pancake still left on her plate, "Is Sophie still asleep?"

"Emma, finish your breakfast," he intervened firmly, looking at the clock as he wrapped the last sandwich and put it in his daughter's plastic Barbie lunchbox. He added apples to both meals and closed the latches on them. When he set both lunchboxes upright, Superman winked at him and he marveled at how some things changed very little from one generation to the next.

"She sleeps a lot, Daddy," said Ben before he asked, "Is that normal?"

"All babies sleep a lot," he told them. "Both of you did a lot sleeping when you were babies too. Now finish up."

As he watched his family gathered around the dining table, he smiled in gratitude at how normal a life he had with his wife and children. This was a moment that grounded him in reality, despite all the craziness that went on around him and Melinda with three kids, his job and her talents. If he had to choose between a quiet life or this life, he wouldn't hesitate to choose this one, with all its trials and sufferings, but also all its immense joys and laughter. He was started out of his thoughts by a nearly simultaneous chorus of scolding from his wife and children.

"Toby!"

"Bad dog!"

"No, Toby!"

All three whisperers glared at a spot near the kitchen's trash can. Sealing a breakfast sandwich in a plastic Ziploc bag for his wife, he sighed to himself with amusement and amended his thoughts. He loved how normal his life was, as normal as it was possible in this household.


	6. Chapter 6

**Point of No Return**

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

Disclaimer: Other than being a weekly viewer, I have nothing to do with Ghost Whisperer

Author's Note: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers for following this story. While I might take up Jim and Melinda's story again, especially the antics of their children, this particular story is coming to its end. There is an epilogue formulating itself on my computer, but we'll see when it becomes coherent. I apologize for the delay of posting this last chapter; there were several plot possibilities that I felt didn't fit into the theme of this story and I had to convince my muses to not go down those paths. Again, thank you for all your reviews and comments.

* * *

The snowflakes drifted down from the soft lavender sky to rest in smooth valleys and mountains, covering the ground with a thick layer of frost. Outside the cozy house, the streets were dark and silent as the midnight hours flowed by, every moment adding another layer of intricate beauty that would awe and astonish when the sun came out in the glory of the morning. Nature was an incomparable artist in her field, painting beauty on the most ordinary of objects and transforming them into items of marvel.

Standing in the living room, he looked out of the windows at the sculptures taking place before his eyes. The house was quiet and asleep, filled with undisturbed dreams of love and laughter. He let out a quiet sigh of contentment. A moment later, a warm breath of air brushed against the back of his neck.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" a woman's voice commented softly. He glanced at the spirit emissary who appeared in the alcove, her arms resting on the windowsill. With a trace of longing in her eyes, she looked wistfully out at the snow. Studying her poised position on the alcove bench in the soft light, he wondered what sort of memories she had of her childhood and how long it had been since she had crossed over.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. She looked away from the windows and smiled kindly at him, "You can sit, you know. I'm not going to bite."

With only the slightest hesitation, he closed the distance between them and took a seat on the other end of the alcove bench. She seemed pleased by his actions before she turned her attention back to the quiet snowstorm coming down on the other side of the window. Watching the snowfall outside, there was a longing smile on her face as she rested her chin on her arms.

"So," he prompted her with a hint of nervousness in his voice, when she had said nothing for a long while. She looked at him expectantly as she said, "Yes?"

He ventured cautiously, "I assume that you're here about something?" He swallowed down his nerves at pressing someone as powerful as she probably was for information. She shook her head, "You called me here."

"You weren't sent?" he asked, started by her words. She brushed off his shock as she turned to face him.

"We are sent; we are called," she shrugged carelessly with a careless wave of her hand. "Does it matter?"

Unsure what to make of her flippancy, he stared at her for a moment, "I guess not."

She smiled in acknowledgement of his bemusement, "Yet it does to you." The woman turned her head toward the couch and laughed quietly with merriment, "They are dears, aren't they?"

He smiled at the sight in front of both of them and agreed, "Yes, they are."

Sophia was sound asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a warm thick blanket, her head pillowed on her older brother's shoulder while her older sister had wrapped her arm protectively around the little girl's waist. Emma was curled up against the couch pillows, her long brown curls spread carelessly against the cushions while Ben had his arms flung out, one around his little sister's shoulders and the other one hanging off the edge of the seat. The three children were puppy-piled on top of each other in a cozy nest of pillows and blankets that they had dragged from their bedrooms, and they were all sound asleep, deep in sweet dreams. He wondered if it was not only his presence, but hers as well, that kept the nightmares away.

"You should be proud of them."

"I am."

"You've done very well, protecting them."

"I've tried."

"You shouldn't worry so much," she said quietly. He sighed and leaned against the window frame, never taking his eyes off of his sleeping nieces and nephew, "How can I not? They're out there, waiting for me to slip up and when I do, they'll…"

"Melinda is one of the strongest whisperers of her generation," she counseled reassuringly. "Her children are just as strong. You can't worry about what is beyond your control."

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, "They're only twelve years old."

"And they've been whispering since the day they were born," she observed calmly. He opened his eyes to look at her uneasily, not reassured by her words, so she continued, "Melinda is a wonderful and prudent teacher. She won't knowingly expose them to unnecessary risks." She leaned forward and covered his hand with one of her own, "The children know they're loved. That will be enough."

"Will it?" he asked softly. "How can that be enough?"

"It will be enough," she squeezed his hand before withdrawing her touch. She looked out at the steadily falling snow and let out a contented sigh at the view before her.

"Such beauty," she murmured, "the first snowfall of the season…"

"It seems like yesterday it was Sophie's first Christmas," he sighed quietly. "Now she's almost six."

Not looking at him, she smiled a little as she responded, "Time is relative. I remember you stayed by her cradle the entire day."

"Except for the snowball fight," he pointed out fondly, looking out the window himself. The roads were covered with a thick layer of snow and, reaching _out_, he knew that black ice was beginning to form under the fresh powder. He hoped that people would be extra cautious when they began to venture out onto the streets during the daylight hours.

"Except for the snowball fight," she conceded with a chuckle. He smiled a little at her happiness before he said worriedly, "It doesn't seem to be stopping."

"Your brother is an experienced paramedic who's driven in far more hazardous conditions than this," she soothed. He nodded distractedly, "I'll still be happier when he gets home."

"Ever the big brother," she laughed, not unkindly, and glanced at him, "He's on his way here, right now, on Wiltshire Street."

He hesitated, looking at the children still sleeping under his watch, and she said quietly, "Go. I'll watch over them."

He nodded with a murmured, "Thanks," before he found himself in the backseat of his brother's vehicle.

Confused by the situation—he should have ended up in the passenger seat of the SUV—it took him a moment to realize that it was Tim, not his brother, who was carefully steering them down the empty, snow-covered streets. To his surprise, Jim was sitting in the passenger seat with his left arm in a cast and blue sling.

"Melinda is going to kill me," muttered Tim, inching along the road. This was apparently a conversation the two paramedics had already, perhaps multiple times, because Jim sighed patiently, "It's not your fault."

"If she doesn't strangle me, Delia will do it for her." He paused to navigate a turn and Jim waited until they were safety on a straight line path before he spoke with an edge of exasperation, "Flaherty, honestly—"

"Or Ophelia," continued Tim thoughtfully as if his partner hadn't interrupted, "I'm sure that she could do something with that frying pan of hers."

"Tim! Please! It's not your fault that I slipped on a patch of ice and broke my wrist."

"Jim, you were _not_ there when…" Tim sighed and then stopped the car in the middle of the road. Clearly a little nervous at where they were parked (like sitting ducks in the street, prime targets for a collision with a less cautious driver at this early hour), Jim studied the empty streets for any form of movement.

"Jim," his brother's colleague gave his brother a stern look, "you weren't there when Melinda had her breakdowns. I've never seen her that distraught before; you remember when you were attacked by that druggie? Think of her reaction and multiply that by a couple thousand. She stayed awake by your side almost every night when you just got out of the hospital. If it wasn't for the twins, I don't think she would have slept at all. Then when you went back to work, she just threw herself into her work and taking care of the twins so she wouldn't panic."

Jim gave his friend a puzzled look, "How do you know all of this?"

"Delia," replied Tim flatly, gently pushing on the accelerator and inching the car forward again. Jim sighed and leaned against the headrest, "So this means I'm in a lot of trouble when I get home…"

"We're _both_ in trouble, man…"

He sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was standing in the living room again. She was sitting primly in one of the armchairs, her hands folded in her lap. Seeing his expression, she tilted her head, "Yes?"

He shook his head, "Jim broke his wrist."

"Oh dear…" She glanced upstairs. He nodded, "That would be one way to put it."

"I meant that Melinda's awake," she pointed at the ceiling. "I think she might want some reassurance her children haven't been kidnapped?"

"Oh." He turned around at the warm breath of air on the back of his neck to see Toby appear at the foot of the couch, sprawled comfortable on the floor. "Stay?"

Toby thumped his tail in reply, his eyes still closed in a light doze. She laughed softly, "Ah, Toby… this retirement suits you."

The dog opened his eyes, mock glared at her for her comment and then turned a hurt puppy-eyed look in his direction. He chuckled, shaking his head, before he found himself upstairs, standing in the main hallway.

Melinda whirled around, the edges of her nightgown fluttering, and said with an edge of hysteria in her voice, "Dan, I can't find them."

"Relax," he soothed, "they're asleep downstairs."

"Again?" she asked, already moving toward the staircase. "I thought we told them not to do that anymore."

He looked up at her from the bottom of the flight, "They wanted to wait for Jim to come home."

"What time is it?" She quickly descended to the main floor of the house and turned toward the living room.

"Almost four," he responded, appearing next to the couch masquerading as a bed. He saw the tension in her shoulders melt away when Melinda saw her children, safe and sound (and in Ben's case, mumbling about snowball forts). She sighed with relief and leaned against the wall, "Thanks, Dan."

"Not a problem," he said with a reassuring smile. "I didn't want to wake you when they first came downstairs."

Her attention almost focused exclusively on her children, Melinda said quietly, "It's fine. I needed the sleep anyway." She sighed, "I don't know…"

"What?" he prompted her. In response, she shook her head slowly, "It's been quiet for a long time. I'm worried."

He knew what his sister-in-law was talking about and glanced over at the woman still sitting calmly in the armchair. She smiled sadly and nodded. He needed to reassure Melinda, boost her spirits and give her hope that everything would be fine.

"We'll deal with it when it comes," he said soothingly. "You're not alone in this."

She nodded with a heavy sigh, "I know."

After a moment of further contemplation, he could see her determinedly putting aside her worries and move forward. Melinda knelt by the couch, careful to avoid Toby's wagging tail.

The young woman arched an eyebrow at the family pet and Toby obediently appeared to sit at her side. She began to stroke his fur, earning herself a happy whuff as Toby leaned against her knee. She smiled.

As if oblivious to all of this, Melinda reached out and ran a hand through Ben's hair, her touch light and cherishing as she did so. Still, the gentle caress was enough to stir her son from his sleep and he blinked languidly before he mumbled, "Mom?"

She grinned at him, "Was it Emma's idea this time or yours?"

He smirked, "Sophia's."

"Uh-huh, Mister," she responded, unconvinced, but clearly amused, "like a five-year-old would know her brother and sister have been camping out on the couch since she was a baby?"

Ben had his father's smile, one that would melt the ladies when he became a young man. But that was in the future, and he was using against his mother, who had married his father and was very used to being on the receiving end of a far more charming Clancy smile. Melinda shook her head with mock sternness, "You're not going to try that one on me. It's not going to work."

Her son was saved from making a reply when they all heard the crunch of snow being compacted outside of the house. Ben bounced up, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Dad's home!" He scrambled to get out the blankets, almost tripping over the layers of warm fabric the siblings had wrapped themselves in.

His happy pronouncement was enough to rouse Emma from her sound sleep. In her surprise, she almost knocked their little sister off of the couch and that made her scowl indigently at her brother as she scolded, "Ben!"

Sophia was far too excited at the news to care about her near-fall or about the way she was rudely awakened. She tried to squirm her way out of her sister's gasp only to be swept up in her mother's arms. "Daddy! Daddy's home!"

"Kids!" Melinda scolded in exasperation, trying to keep Sophia from falling out of her arms. "Please!"

"I can see that now," the young woman said understandingly to Someone unseen as she watched the sudden chaos erupt in the living room. Melinda was firmly guiding her two older children on how to extricate themselves from their little nest without getting hurt. "You were very right to suggest more help…"

He gave her a confused look to which she responded to with a mysterious smile. Whenever he thought he had a good grasp of how things worked on the Other Side, it went topsy-turvy on him.

There was the muffled thump of footsteps and murmuring on the front porch before there was a jingle of keys and the sound of the lock behind turned. Someone cursed softly when the door jammed a little because of the cold.

"Um, Melinda," he said quickly before the front door could swing open, "there's something you need to—"

He never got a chance to finish that sentence because the next moment, Tim stepped into the house. The man stopped when he saw the unexpected greeting committee waiting for them in the foyer. He had a bit of a panicked expression on his face, "Er, Jim…"

"Tim, seriously, it's not safe for you to drive home at this hour. You can sleep on the couch—"

His paramedic jacket buttoned up tightly over his sling and cast, Jim stepped through the doorway and froze in surprise. The adults in the room all stared at each other (except the spirits, because she was still petting Toby and he was ready to bang his head against the wall for not warning Melinda beforehand and then he shut and locked the front door. There was no reason to let the living catch pneumonia).

"Dad!" Ben didn't pay much attention to the fact that the left sleeve of his father's jacket was flopping emptily. He was just happy that his dad was home. It also meant that his mom could stop worrying and fussing. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Dad, what happened?" asked Emma, her observant eyes wide with confusion. Sophia, being five, was too young to fret about much and reached out to be cuddled by her father. She was stopped by her mother's firm grip.

"Jim!" Melinda froze in the hallway, her eyes filled with veiled panic. The paramedics exchanged looks and then spoke at the same time.

"Melinda, please don't kill—"

"It's just a broken wrist—"

The two men stopped, looked at each other and then Jim tried again, reaching out for Melinda.

"I'm fine," he soothed. She shuddered at his cold hand brushing against her cheek, but when he tried to pull away, she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her skin. He gave her a one-armed hug, Sophia's warm body pressing a little uncomfortably against his casted wrist, Emma and Ben wrapping themselves around his waist. Jim kissed Melinda's forehead, "I'm fine. It's just a broken wrist."

She nodded, "Okay." She drew back from him, willing her panic to fade, still nodding, "Okay." She let out a shuddering sigh and then smiled at him, "I'm okay."

He gave her a worried look but nodded slowly.

"Dad?" asked Emma plaintively. Jim looked down and smiled, "I'm okay, Emma." He ruffled Ben's hair, "I'm fine, promise."

"Daddy?" Sophia's confusion at this situation was obvious as was Tim's. The paramedic was staring at the door and clearly wondering who had closed and locked it in the frantic exchange of reassurances that had occurred.

Ben carefully tugged on his father's sleeve, "Do you need help?"

"Thank you," said Jim, letting his son and daughter help him unfasten his jacket and take it off. At the sight of his sling, Melinda asked, "So what happened?"

"We were out by the Old Mill," explained Tim, putting both men's duffle bags under the hallway table and shrugging off his own jacket. "There was a minor crash."

"Black ice sent a minivan out of control," Jim took up the explanation, walking over to the coat peg to hang up his jacket and trailed by his kids and wife. "There weren't any serious injuries, but we wanted to be safe, especially with the pregnant wife."

Melinda nodded, so he continued, "When we were loading one of the kids into the rig, I slipped on a patch of ice."

"I had one of the doctors at the hospital check him out," added Tim. "No concussion, no other broken bones, just a few bruises."

Melinda nodded, "Good," and then turned toward the kitchen, "I'll go put some hot chocolate on. Tim, I think Delia wouldn't mind a call from you."

She set Sophia down on the ground. The two medical technicians exchanged relieved, if slightly cautious, looks. The children cheered happily, "Yay!" and swarmed around their mother as she walked down the hallway. With a bemused shrug and completely unwilling to question their good fortune, the men also followed.

A warm laugh rang out by his side and he turned to see her standing next to him, her brown eyes sparkling with mirth, "Your family is a handful."

He watched them as they gathered around the kitchen table, a family full of love and laughter, "Yes, but I don't think they'd trade it for the world."

She smiled at him, "I think it's safe to leave them for a while, do you think?"

He heard the sound of Melinda laughing from the kitchen and knew that the family, as long as they were together, was safe from all harm. He nodded his agreement, taking her hand. She grinned shyly at him before they vanished, leaving only a breath of warm air behind them.

Toby looked up at their disappearance, thumped his tail and went back to sleep to the sound of children laughing in the early dawn of the morning.


End file.
